Death Watch (14 page)

G
rateful for pink packing peanuts, Billy Peppers slouched against the side of his four-by-four-by-four wooden traveling compartment. At times the ride was rough, tossing him around as easily as the peanuts. Three times he slammed his head against the top of the crate. Now, pulling the jacket tight around him, he tried to stop shivering. Frozen fingertips clutched an angel figurine.

He had more pressing problems than staying warm.

He couldn’t breathe.

Billy slung his head back, desperately trying to pull air into his lungs. The effort was strenuous, the reward small, like trying to suck liquid through a pinched straw.

Pressing the figurine against his chest, skirting the edge of consciousness, Billy prayed.

W
hat did I miss?” Sydney asked. She approached Hunz to thunderous applause. Neither Hunz nor little Stacy were clapping, so the ovation was not for Cheryl. A quick look at the contestants’ podiums revealed the damage. Barb Whitlock had taken a commanding lead with $66,500.

“A Bible history question,” Hunz shouted over the din. “Burial place of the patriarch Abraham and his wife, Sarah.”

Barb Whitlock was pleased with herself. “I knew attending church would pay off someday, Skip,” she said.

“What was the answer?” Sydney asked Hunz.

He looked at her strangely. “You don’t know?”

“Why would I know?”

Hunz shrugged. “Just thought you’d know, that’s all,” he said. “Hebron. The city of Hebron.”

He handed Stacy to Sydney. “I need to make a phone call,” he said.

At first Stacy objected. Hunz assured her he’d be gone for just a moment.

Skip Hirshberg summed up the contestant standings. “Barb Whitlock is our current leader with $66,500, Cheryl McClintock is in second place with $6,600, and Junior has yet to make an appearance on the money board. As for all of you in our television audience, your chance may be coming up right after this commercial break, because anything can happen on America’s favorite game show,
Wonder Wheel!
We’ll be right back.”

A pause, then the set crew and makeup artists streamed onto the set, applying fresh powder to the contestants, and going over notes for the next segment with Skip.

“Mommy!” Stacy reached for her mother.

“Not yet, honey,” Sydney said. “Mommy still has more game to play, more money to win, won’t that be fun?” She hefted the girl onto her hip. The studio lights and a warm child pressed against her was a hot combination.

Cheryl appeared to be holding her own on the set. In her unguarded moments, she appeared troubled. The gaudy artificial surroundings of the game show were insufficient to mask the death sentence hanging over her. Cheryl scanned the audience for Stacy. From experience Sydney knew she couldn’t see anything beyond the studio lights.

“Thirty seconds, people,” someone called.

Little Stacy watched the lights of the Wonder Wheel going round and round, oblivious to the fact that in two days she would be an orphan.

The floor director started the countdown. “And we’re live in five, four, three, two .. ” His finger signaled one, then pointed at Skip Hirshberg.

“And we’re back!” Skip said to the cameras. “Let’s put that big money wheel in motion one more time! Contestants, you have five seconds.”

This time Cheryl hit her button immediately, as did the other two contestants. The results flashed on the podiums before the theme music finished.

“Cheryl McCormick, you’re our high roller!” He leaned toward her confidentially. “It pays to take advice from the ol’ Skiperoo, doesn’t it?”

Cheryl smiled, happy to have a chance at some serious money. She readied herself for the question.

Hunz returned. Stacy leaned so far out of Sydney’s arms to get to him she knocked Sydney off balance. Hunz caught the little girl with an
ooofff.
There was no joy in it.

“What’s wrong?” Sydney asked.

“Nothing.” But it was a lie. Sydney could tell. “Looks like Cheryl has a chance to pull into the lead,” he said, diverting her attention back to the game.

Skip was crossing the stage, something he never did in the middle of a show. “Let me tell you something about this brave little lady,” he said, approaching Cheryl. He took, her by the hand.

Cheryl looked at him warily.

“I’m sure all of you are aware of the current terrorist threat we face in America known as Death Watch.”

“Oh no,” Sydney said.

“It’s a horrible, horrible scourge, and we can only pray that our leaders will find who’s behind it and bring them to justice soon. Despite this little lady’s expectant condition, last night she beat two other contestants to the Excelsior Hotel to qualify for tonight’s program. Then, within minutes of her arrival, Cheryl McCormick received a death watch notice.”

The audience gasped.

“I thought she didn’t want anyone to know,” Hunz said.

“She doesn’t,” Sydney said. She had her suspicions who did this.

“In the face of this dastardly threat, we at
Wonder Wheel
would have understood had Cheryl chosen not to appear tonight. However, she insisted. And here she is, Ladies and Gentlemen. Even threat of death cannot keep people from playing America’s favorite game show,
Wonder Wheel!
Bless you, my dear. Bless you.”

Skip Hirshberg kissed her hand, then returned to the master of ceremonies podium.

Cheryl was shaken. She was trying to see past the studio lights. Looking for Sydney. She was angry.

“I didn’t tell them,” Sydney said to Hunz. “Honest. I didn’t!”

“Scoring the highest dollar value with a question value of ninety-four with a difficulty factor of eight for a total of $75,200 and the lead, the category is
Rocks of Ages
—the second time for you
tonight. It was a lucky category for you before, Cheryl, do you want to play or pass?”

“Um…” Cheryl looked shell-shocked. “The difficulty factor is eight?”

“Correct. Play or pass? You have three seconds, Cheryl.”

“Um…um…play. Play.”

“Here’s your question. Possibly the earliest tangible evidence linked to Jesus of Nazareth is a limestone ossuary, or burial box, with the inscription, ‘James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus.’ For $75,200, in what language was the inscription written? (a) Hebrew, (b) Latin, (c) Aramaic, (d) Greek.

Cheryl stared at her hands. They were trembling.

“She doesn’t know,” Hunz said.

“She’s a schoolteacher. Schoolteachers know everything,” Sydney said.

“Well,” Cheryl said, “James and Joseph and Jesus were Hebrew, but the language of commerce in those days was Greek. The New Testament was written in Greek.”

She was thinking out loud.

“I’m going to need an answer, Cheryl.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m going to say Greek, Skip. D.”

A buzzer sounded.

“Ooooooo, I’m sorry, Cheryl. The correct answer is (c) Aramaic. We’re going to have to deduct $75,200 from your score, which will put you in the negative column.”

Skip Hirshberg’s disappointment lasted only a moment.

“But it is great news for someone at home! Let’s go to the phones!”

The display beneath the
Wonder Wheel
began flashing.

727 319-WIN!

“Our computer has randomly selected tonight’s at-home contestant location. Here it is! Area code 727. Prefix 319. Seminole, Florida, it’s your turn to play
Wonder Wheel!
The first caller from Seminole, Florida, has a chance to win $75,200!”

Cheryl didn’t hear any of this. It was obvious she was wrestling with her disappointment, an opponent that was growing stronger by the second. Her expression said it was all she could do to keep from walking off the set. Her situation was hopeless. She was $68,600 in the red. Even assuming Barb Whitlock failed to answer any more questions correctly, Cheryl would have to win $135,100 just to catch up with her. And even if she managed to climb out of this hole and post some positive numbers, it was winner-take-all. All she’d be doing is winning more money for Barb Whitlock and Sir Talks-a-Lot.

Watching from the vomitory, Sydney felt like crying. She knew that for Cheryl this was no longer a game show but a chance to provide for her children after she was gone. With only hours left to live, she’d gambled on staying in LA and lost precious time. She still had to get back to Evanston, convince the doctor to induce labor, and give birth to a child before her time was literally up.

The way Cheryl kept trying to see past the studio lights, Sydney knew Cheryl blamed her for leaking the news of her Death Watch.

J
osh Leven arrived at the studio midway through the airing of
Wonder Wheel.

“Syd,” he said, walking up behind her and looking at the contestant totals. “She’s not doing too well, is she?”

The podiums told the story. Cheryl had managed to regain a portion of ground—by correctly identifying the meaning of the word
obfuscate,
to darken, to make obscure—which brought her total to minus $22,600, but the gap between her and Barb Whitlock still seemed insurmountable.

Barb was playing it safe. She passed on two difficult questions and correctly answered one low-risk question—in what town was Jesus born?—to pad her lead by $8,100, bringing her total to $74,600.

Junior, meanwhile, had fallen to minus $39,600 and third place with two incorrect answers. He had yet to answer a question correctly.

The contestants had just locked in another round. Barb Whitlock passed on the number of players on an NFL team roster. “My husband will kill me when I get home,” she said. And Cheryl passed on the atomic weight of silver.

“Which brings it down to you, Junior,” Skip said. “And I have to say, this is a first for
Wonder Wheel.
Never in the history of the show have we had a contestant spin a combination so low. With a question value of one and a factor of difficulty zero, for $100 the category is
Hysterical History.
Pass or play?”

Junior’s eyes did his gasping thing. He hesitated. “I’m . . I’m gonna play, Skip.”

“Here’s your question: For $100, what color was George Washington’s white horse? (a) Dapple gray, (b) Black, (c) Chestnut brown, (d) White.”

Junior gripped the side of his podium, his head lowered in thought, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Three seconds.”

Junior was in agony.

“I have to have an answer,” Skip said.

Junior bit his lower lip. His eyes popped open so wide it looked like they were going to disgorge from their sockets.

“D. White!” he shouted, just as the buzzer sounded.

“Judges, did he get in under the wire?”

A double beep signaled he did.

“White, that’s correct!” Skip shouted.

Junior’s deficit was erased by $100.

The audience clapped without enthusiasm.

Skip leaned forward. With a smirk, he said, “Tell me, Junior, now that you have answered correctly, it was obvious you struggled with it. Can you tell us how you figured out the answer to the question?”

“Well, Skip,” Junior said proudly, “I just thought of the pictures I’d seen of George Washington when I was a kid in school, and in the pictures his horse was white.”

Josh whispered to Sydney, “Is this guy for real?”

“You said you wanted to talk,” she replied. Sydney really didn’t want to get into this now, but there seemed to be no avoiding it. She led him to a quiet corner of the studio.

“Look, Josh,” she said, “I’m going to make this easy for you. I know you’re infatuated with Cori and that when a guy’s in love, his brain freezes up and he does amazingly dumb things. I don’t know what Cori promised you to get you to go along with her twisted attempt to steal this assignment from me, and frankly, I don’t want
to know. We’re still friends, okay? Let’s just leave it at that. I don’t particularly like you right now and it’ll take me a few days to get over this, but it’s not going to permanently damage our friendship. Just don’t do it again, all right?”

“Syd, I got a death watch notice.”

“Oh, Josh!” Sydney cried. “Are you sure?”

His eyes were glassy. His chin quivered. Sydney had never seen Josh emotionally distraught before, and it broke her heart. He was the good-natured jock, competitive, occasionally frustrated and angry just like everyone else. But never like this. Never broken. Never scared.

He reached into his back pocket and handed her a folded sheet of paper.

Sydney unfolded it.

An email printout.

It was addressed to Joshua Leven at his KSMJ address. The wording was word-for-word identical to all the other notices.

“Confirmation phone call?” Sydney asked.

Josh nodded.

Behind them, the game show stadium crowd erupted with cheers.

U
nder blazing studio lights, Cheryl McCormick blinked back tears. She’d pulled within striking distance of Barb Whitlock, but the pressure, the pregnancy, and the looming death sentence had spun her emotions out of her control.

Since the announcement that she was under Death Watch, she’d become the studio audience favorite. Everyone in the stands was living and dying with each spin of the Wonder Wheel and each breathless second she took to answer a question.

Meanwhile, Barb Whitlock had stumbled; whether out of greed or a moment of confusion, it was hard to say. Instead of passing and protecting her lead, she took a chance on answering a question.

“How many yards is an NFL football team penalized for going offside?”

The risk was relatively low with a dollar value of $13,500. It appeared to be easy money that would put her well beyond Cheryl McCormick’s reach.

“I’m a big Raider’s fan, Skip,” she’d said. “My husband and I haven’t missed a game in over ten years. The answer is A. Ten yards.”

“I’m sorry,” Skip cried. “But the penalty for offsides in the NFL is five yards.”

“Wait! No! I was thinking of holding. You said holding, didn’t you? The penalty for holding is ten yards!”

But it was too late. Barb Whitlock’s total dropped to $61,100.

Cheryl won the next spin and the first chance to answer a question.

“With a question value of ninety-five, and a factor of difficulty of seven, for $66,500 the category is
Rocks of Ages.”

The studio audience groaned. Cheryl had spent most of the show recovering from a wrong answer in this category.

“Pass or play?”

Time was running out. Cheryl might not get another chance to make up this much ground.

“Play, Skip,” Cheryl said.

“For $66,500, here’s your question: The discovery of the Rosetta stone led to a better understanding of what ancient language?”

Cheryl shook her head. Another language question.

“Is it, (a) Paleo Hebrew, (b) Egyptian hieroglyphics, (c) Attic Greek, or (d) Vedic Sanskrit? You have fifteen seconds.”

Each tick of the clock had a dampening effect on the studio audience until it became so quiet Cheryl would have sworn she could hear the heartbeat of her unborn child.

“Eight seconds, Cheryl.”

She remembered something about the Rosetta stone being on display at the British Museum in London. A tour brochure, if she remembered correctly. That didn’t help.

“I have to have an answer, Cheryl,” Skip said.

“B, Skip. Egyptian hieroglyphics.”

It was a guess, pure and simple. But she said it with conviction.

“Correct!” Skip shouted.

That’s when the studio erupted with noise, the very moment Josh Leven convinced Sydney his death watch notice was real.

S
ydney and Josh came running. Hunz filled them in. “She’s within $17,200!” he shouted but could barely be heard. “Not much time left, though. One spin left, maybe two.”

“I’ve never watched this show,” Josh said. “What does she need to do?”

“They each stop the wheels,” Hunz said. “A combination of factors gives them a dollar number. High number gets first crack.”
Josh nodded. As the wheels were once again set into motion, the two men watched with all the intensity of a couple of guys glued to the last seconds of a championship sports event.

Sydney watched, too, but was unable to compartmentalize her feelings like Josh seemed to be doing. Her emotions battled, and she was a casualty. Cheering Cheryl on, she saw a new friend, a dying friend, an unborn life and soon-to-be orphan, while precious Stacy watched her mother with her head on Hunz’s shoulder. She saw Josh. Young, energetic, all-around nice guy. Josh, distracted at the moment, but hurting. While all around her, people were cheering for a ridiculous game show. But it was more than a game show for Cheryl; it was the future of her children. A future without their mother or father.

It was just too much. Yesterday morning Sydney’s biggest worry was that she was stuck in traffic and couldn’t make it to a meeting on time. And now she hurt so badly, she felt as though she was the one dying.

The hands of the three contestants hovered over the buttons that would lock in their choices. The
Wonder Wheel
theme music began to play.

Junior locked in his choice.

Barb Whitlock locked in hers.

As she did on her first spin, Cheryl watched the wheel as the music played and didn’t push her button until the last beat of the last measure.

The results appeared on the podiums.

The audience groaned collectively in disappointment.

Barb Whitlock had locked in the highest value, with Junior second, and Cheryl McCormick third.

A total of $17,200 separated Cheryl from first place. She’d spun a question value of twenty-one with a factor of difficulty nine for a total of $18,900. It was enough to win. But she was third in line to get a question. Would she get a chance to play?